


unnecessary goodbyes; ushiten.

by arrowthroughtheheart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst and Tragedy, Body Dysphoria, Gen, Heavy Angst, Historical Inaccuracy, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Minor Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Tendou Satori Needs a Hug, Tendou Satori-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowthroughtheheart/pseuds/arrowthroughtheheart
Summary: Goshiki wouldn’t have wanted this to happen to them, but then again, how’s he going to kick them out of hell if he’s the only one that gets to go to heaven for his noble deeds?
Relationships: Goshiki Tsutomu/Tendou Satori, Goshiki Tsutomu/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	unnecessary goodbyes; ushiten.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marsenthusiast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsenthusiast/gifts).



> TW: Maybe historical inaccuracies and forced personal beliefs on the characters I write with - uh. And angst. Heavy angst - or not. It really depends. But if you're easily triggered I suggest be careful, maybe.
> 
> Side note: this is my anime fic debut I'm fucking nervous okAY. also this took a turn from just being a babysitting fic im-

They were young when it happened, barely reaching adulthood. Their eyes still held what was once believed as youth, innocence, though sometimes later down the line it hoped to bloom into something else - something that the world wasn't ready for at the time. Something that crossed the line of norms that was once set in those times; the times when peace was not an option and some desperately wanted to reign over others.

Tendou Satori was sixteen when it happened, but let us go back a little further. To a time that was a little more. . . heartwarming, and maybe even normal.

Though Tendou is the last person to know what it is to feel like a normal human being, given that the world has always been the same. Judgemental, cold, unforgiving. He’s lived through all that, his entire life. His entire -  _ short  _ \- life. But it was okay.

He got through it, day by day, learning to turn a blind eye towards the cold biased judgement he’s always subjected to everytime he comes across his parents’ peers, thinking that it was more than okay to openly shit on a little kid for how he looks. Genuinely speaking, Tendou didn’t even know why they thought he looked like a hideous  _ monster.  _ Sure, he himself had seen a lot of people his age who looked like they were sculpted by the gods above, but that was no reason to drag someone else down, wasn’t it? Or was that the wrong way to think about life?

But he didn’t understand why they would subject him through such embarrassing degradation even when the people he was - more often than not - compared to didn’t even care. Like Ushijima Wakatoshi, also known as the prime example of a good son their parents would take pride of. He’s the exact same age as Tendou,  _ maybe even a few months younger, but that doesn’t matter  _ \- yet he’s always been the type of promising young men who would do good for their country later on. And back in those days, yes, that was a priority. 

A very foolish priority, Tendou added, since he thinks every living being should prioritize themselves before they slave away for their own country - but Ushijima scolded him for saying that out loud on school grounds. Ushijima was right, this one time, since if anyone heard what Tendou had said, the young man could’ve been killed in a second.

“I didn’t even say anything  _ that  _ out of line,” Tendou snickered, his shoulders sagged while he leaned over the wall in a manner he’s learned to hate, yet he does it all the time. “I am aware,” Ushijima tilted his head slightly in the spur of a moment before he returned to his usual poised and disciplined nature, “but according to whatever has been. . . going on,” the younger, yet larger young man continued, “I would assume that whoever heard you say whatever you just say wouldn’t be- how do I put this. . . very happy.”

They were off school grounds at that moment, straying from the exact path they need to take to go straight home. Tendou was the one leading, spouting lies about how he wanted to hang out by the river to help him register the mathematical formula he has yet to understand and his house were a little too noisy for him to function, and Ushijima just followed, a little focused frown adorning his face. Tendou was lying; obviously. His father was placed in another country, and since last summer he barely sent any letters back from his post that his mother thought, without second guesses, that her husband was cheating on her. She got into a toxic cycle of getting wasted with her childhood friends on the other side of the town and beating herself up after said instances that Tendou rarely got a glimpse of her, but that was quite alright. Tendou was just glad he didn’t need to go get his mother home, since if he did, he’d have to see her friends and they weren’t exactly his biggest fans. They didn’t even remotely like him, and his ‘hideous face’. 

He just wanted to spend more time with someone. That was all.

“Your house is  _ too  _ noisy?” Ushijima planted his bottom on the dried patch of grass across from where Tendou was lying on his side, eyes unfocused as he watched the sun setting. Tendou hummed as a reply, and the younger man scoffed, not able to believe the situation. “With all due respect, Satori Tendou, but aren’t you a chatterbox yourself?” Ushijima asked, completely missing the pained glare Tendou shot him right after. The Wakatoshi could be a little unfiltered from time to time -  _ most times.  _

He noticed the dirty look after a while though, and shrugged. “Well, correct me if I’m wrong,” Ushijima squinted, and Tendou noticed that it was him trying to deliver a truly honest smile.

“I only talk so much since  _ you’re  _ so quiet,” Tendou retaliated, feeling a little childish. Maybe it was the atmosphere. So warm and comfortable, and fluffy, like taking a bite of the clouds and relishing yourself in the aftermath of a refreshing hot bath. 

“I’m only quiet because I felt like you need someone to listen to you,” Ushijima responded, a little quieter than the tone they had set - and he almost meant for Tendou to not be able to hear it. Almost. But somewhere in his conflicted heart, he also wanted the other to hear it.

Tendou did hear it.

Ushijima wasn’t wrong. Growing up being called an ugly monster took a toll on Tendou, who didn’t even know what was wrong with his physical looks and barely hated himself as a child. The fact that no one wanted to be his friend, or even talk to him, was a little confusing for young Tendou. Frustrating, too, but mostly confusing. He had a little growth spurt, too, when he reached his teenage years, and for a couple of years he towered over his classmates. That, coupled with the students in his area being scared to death of his overly-analytical nature and weirdly positioned face completed the whole ‘Satori Tendou is a demon-child’ rumours which stayed with him for. . . forever. 

Tendou liked talking, though, and he’s almost always proud of how articulate and smart he was ever since he was a kid. Smarter than most, which caused him to be able to predict whatever was going to happen and lead him to win in almost every game he played as a kid. He didn’t feel like his peers were boring, though. He liked winning. He wanted to win with his friends, make them feel happy too, like he did. But no one wanted to be his friend. Or talked to him. Or let him ramble on and on about how smart and special everyone is - according to his analysis. It was sad. Very sad, sometimes, that young Tendou wanted to do nothing else but curl on his bed most of the time.

He glanced at his friend and noticed how Ushijima had been looking at him the whole time, while he was drowned in his old miseries and pitied himself for a good fifteen minutes. What a nice guy, that Ushijima kid. Tendou smiled, more to himself, but it’s a smile Ushijima can also see. 

“You’re right,” he said, swaying his voice a little just to sound chirpy and happy. 

They fell into a silence no one dared to break, Ushijima sat there with his chin resting on his fisted fingers and Tendou lied on his side while his eyes scattered all over the universe when the sun set and the sky got darker every moving second. 

“Call me nosey if you want,” Tendou looked up, propping himself on his elbows before he pushed himself into a sitting position, “but where’s your father located?” 

Ushijima scoffed,  _ but Tendou is sure he didn’t mean it, he probably just huffed out loud trying to think. Yes, that’s most likely it.  _

“Not far. Probably Hiroshima, since I’ve peeked at his letters when he fell asleep on his writing desk a few days ago. But it’s a possibility that it isn’t Hiroshima, since I shouldn’t have put my nose where I’m not required to,” Ushijima spared Tendou a glance, which the other laughed about, “but it doesn’t even matter. It’s not like the rumours were. . . real.”

Tendou looked at his friend again, this time with a little more confusion on his face. 

“Since I don’t like politics,” the older among the two started, “what rumours?”

But Ushijima waved him off, saying it wasn’t worth Tendou’s time since as the kid said, he wasn’t interested in politics, and the War that was going on back then made the young man grow even more tired of humanity and all its packed bullshit. Ushijima can’t say he shared the same beliefs Tendou did, but he agreed out loud when his friend argued that War brought more casualties than a better outcome in life. They didn’t really need more than they have, now, do they?

The walk home was silent, though Tendou’s brain fought strongly against having silence. But he saw something different about Ushijima, saw how he didn’t step as confident as he used to, saw how he almost let his head dangle downwards like a depressed youth he wasn’t supposed to be before, and saw his dark-casted eyes. Tendou kept to himself that night, but he hoped he would’ve said something.

It’s the kind of regret he carried down to the grave.

And he did.

The radio was blaring loudly when Tendou got home that night, his mother’s door wide open with the lights turned off except for the study lamp she got on the desk and the sound of water running in the bathroom. The radio was loud for a reason, and Tendou willed himself out of his pondering to actually listen about what’s going on in the world for once, but found his mood turned sour. Japan had done something once again, something violent under the cover of victory. He had no say in the war that was going on, nor did he feel any euphoric moments whenever the radio stated the fact that they either win or die. Whoever landed a hit on who, Tendou would find his stomach churning in a downwards spiral before he felt the need to pass out. 

Only when his mother came stumbling out of the bathroom, pajamas crooked here and there with her drenched hair and surprisingly sober eyes after the radio stated the fact that they had done something amazing by blowing up a country’s mainland did he realize one fact.

“Tendou!” his mother said, on the verge of tears when she took him in her arms, lightly sobbing,  _ “your father made it.” _

“That pilot  _ bastard  _ did it.”

His father. . .

There was a time, of course, when Tendou really wanted to be like his father. A pilot, a respectful one at that - at least in their little neighborhood. He wasn’t that high on the military ranking, but of course, any man in general who had any kind of relations with the military was well-respected. Especially in a neighborhood as close-minded as the Satori’s. 

He asked his father once about the planes. What kind of planes he flew, and whatnot. Apparently the old man knew his way quite a lot. He explained to Tendou what the differences were, what made this and that possible with different types of piloting and experience, and for the longest time, he’s wanted to be like his father. 

And then the torpedoes came.

And the manned torpedoes needed pilots.

They called it the  _ kaitens,  _ and was mostly used by the navy. Tendou’s father wasn’t necessarily someone who worked with the sailors a lot, but there was a low amount of volunteers who would want to man a  _ kaiten  _ \- which was understandable, seeing as it’s a suicide mission meant to brainwash people into willing volunteers ‘for the good of the nation’. Everything was for the nation. Nothing was for anyone’s own good. Nothing.

“He did it, that bastard,” Tendou’s mother wailed in his arms, and the young man stood there frozen, each and every single cell in his body felt like they were electrocuted by simply listening like a statue as their national anthem played in their background. He wanted to smash that fucking radio. He really did. 

His father fucking died. 

Tendou didn’t feel the need to move from his bed aside from the time to time reminder he got from his mother about needing to eat, to bathe, or to go to school. He didn’t even go to school when the time came, and it got to the point where Ushijima needed to come over and knocked on the door to his darkened room. He answered only then, looking up at his friend through lidded and swollen eyes. 

“Sorry,” Ushijima said as he sat by Tendou’s bedside, facing away from him. He said nothing back, a selfish decision Tendou had made to keep the calm and quiet atmosphere he’d learned to build over the course of his two-weeks of wallowing in self-pity. “Not really your fault now, is it?” he answered finally, voice scratchy and mellowed. Ushijima flinched at this, and he mumbled something out.

Tendou didn’t have it in him to try and listen.

. .

It felt odd to have genuine school celebrations like Sports Day when you’re in the middle of a world war and you’ve just lost a father, Tendou thought to himself and he came to a conclusion that it was just weird since Ushijima hadn’t actively tried to look for him that day. He was grouped into a three-membered group with Ushijima and this underclassmen called. . . Goshiki? Right, Tsutomu Goshiki. He didn’t remember it wrong, right?

“Tsutomu Goshiki, correct?” Tendou turned to the youngest between the three of them as he shot a question. It had a chance to be ignored, akin to literally every single one of his other questions he’s surfaced to anyone who isn’t Ushijima or his mother, and this Tsutomu kid had this dazed awestruck look on him the entire day. Tendou bet his right and left lung that it was because of Ushijima, though, since his friend garnered a lot of attention from both adults and younger people who fawned over how good-looking and polite he is. What Tendou didn’t see coming was the fact that this kid looked at him the exact same way when he turned around.

It weirded him out a little, the fact that someone is  _ that  _ interested in him. That’s new. Definitely refreshing, but new. 

“Y-yes! That’s me!” Tsutomu raised his right hand in a salute. Tendou squinted at him, the corner of his lips pulled into an amused smile. “Okay. Let’s work hard today, Tsutomu!” he tilted his head, letting his right arm invite the younger into a handshake. 

Tsutomu looked at Tendou’s face for approximately five seconds before he looked at the senior’s outstretched hand, and then back at his face, before he quickly dove into the handshake, his cheeks tinted a light pink. “O-Okay! And Goshiki is fine, thank you!” he exclaimed the last part, Tendou was pretty sure, and he chuckled at the high-spirited boy. 

“You too, Ushijima,” and then he moved on to his friend, who was watching the exchange with full curiosity - though not explicitly shown. You know, the Ushiwaka-emotion that only Tendou can notice. “We shouldn’t put the third years’ name to shame, or something,” he changed the pitch of his voice at the end of his sentence, which made him sound like a whining honey-bear. 

“Go on,” he nudged Ushijima’s shoulder, looking back at Goshiki, “say something to the awestruck kid.”

It was silent, but amusing to Tendou as he watched Ushijima’s plain but confused face, very obvious with his never-changing facial expressions stare down Goshiki’s entirely red face - though it wouldn’t be staring down since the underclassmen is surprisingly not that much shorter than they were. In fact, Tendou was almost sure this kid would tower over them in a few years, and it almost struck deep within his confidence level (which was at an all-time-low) but he willed it to stop. The kid looked fun to be with, Tendou thought to himself as he placed Goshiki’s face on his mind map as a ‘potential friend’.

“Don’t mess this up for us,” Ushijima chose as he nodded curtly, and Tendo inwardly cringed at how harsh that sounded. He was getting ready to console a shaking first-year that was hit by Ushijima’s non-filtered afterparty but Goshiki wasn’t even phased as he bowed in an  _ almost  _ entire half-circle of his joints, and he shouted ‘okay’ really loud. Really, really loud. 

Both Ushijima and Tendou’s arms were quick to pull him off his overly-formal bow and shut him up in fear of being accused of bullying the poor kid since a few pair of eyes were already on them, but soon after Tendou managed to shush Goshiki and promised him ice cream after school as if the kid was  _ five  _ and Ushijima turned around while scratching the back of his non-itchy head from embarrassment, everyone minded their own business. 

They simply won almost everything, though it slightly alarmed Tendou’s automatic response to winning - since he’s always been chastised for being too good at reading everyone else’s tactics - apparently nothing happened aside from the fact that both Ushijima and little Goshiki being the stars of the show. Tendou didn’t check in to see if he’s actually there among them, since he’s used to being casted to the side. Uglier than most, remember?

He didn’t hear the boo-ing over the screeching young maids who were in love, though, so that’s a good thing for him. 

Tendou had bothered Ushijima long enough that day so the other wouldn’t mind waiting for Tendou who was waiting for Goshiki since he promised the underclassmen that he would buy him an ice cream earlier that day, though Ushijima mentioned how Goshiki would probably not remember the promise, Tendou wanted to wait for the kid either way.

Ushijima did nothing but stare into the busied road while they waited for the first-years’ bell to go off.

Goshiki was surrounded by his classmates, and most likely his friends, since he’s proven himself to be popular. An athletic young boy would always be popular, no matter what. Tendou briefly wondered why it’s not like that for him, and the answer popped itself onto his head as he grinned grimly, the change of emotions pointed out by Ushijima. “Don’t make that face,” the other mumbled, leaning closer into Tendou’s personal bubble as his elbow nudged his friend’s. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, it isn’t true,” he continued.

“Being not-so-positive wouldn’t hurt you, from time to time,” Tendou looked up at Ushijima, speaking in his habitual smile-scowl thing that is going on with his face before he looked back at Goshiki’s direction, noticing how the younger was looking at them at the moment, once again with his jaw wide open and his eyes rounded. “But being so negative all the time would hurt  _ you,”  _ Ushijima retaliated, his fingers ran through his hair in a muted aggression. 

Tendou ignored this in lieu of beckoning Goshiki over with his slightly tilted head and raised eyebrows, and Goshiki quickly marched over to them like a man on a mission after he begged for his friend group’s forgiveness for not walking home together. 

Goshiki was flabbergasted -  _ to say the least  _ \- when they (mostly Tendou) asked him to walk over to a store for ice cream before they head back home, since what in the world happened to him last night that he got so lucky that day?

Fawning over impressive and talented people had always been Goshiki’s inner gift he never told anyone, since it would sound. . . wrong if people hear him gush about anyone who was not a female  _ or  _ was their Emperor at the time. But the problem with this mindset was, according to Goshiki, the fact that talent wasn’t just found from women and or the Emperor. Men can also be so ground-breakingly talented that Goshiki would like to ramble on and on about them, especially his seniors. These two in particular.

He hadn’t seen or heard a lot of things about Wakatoshi and Satori aside from the fact that they were always together ever since Goshiki himself stepped foot inside the academy, and he noticed soon after that they were best friends since they. . . well, they were always together. He found it odd that there were less than good things that surrounded Satori Tendou, all the nasty rumours and non-validated opinions about the senior that made Goshiki frown in disagreement, since, no. Would you look at them? They’re the epitome of what Goshiki aspired to be, from how they act, their academic histories, their physiques - though both are a lot different if compared to each other - their abilities that covered almost the entire range of being a genius. . . everything. 

He’s tried to gather information, being a secluded admirer as he was. Asked his friends, subtly talked about them to his teachers, everything. He was called out once by his classmate, and Goshiki began questioning about life right then and there.

“You seem like the type, you know?” the classmate laughed, and Goshiki didn’t like where the conversation was going. “What type do you mean?” he asked, and the response was, well, nothing he’s never heard before. “To be interested in. . . you know. Boys?”

He didn’t let it shake him since he didn’t see what’s so wrong about it. It was, and never will be, a mistake to admire someone and let them drive you to further success. Goshiki stood by that, still, but why was he there? In the middle of an ice cream store with both Satori and Wakatoshi who were chattering while they paid for his little bowl of ice cream  _ and  _ some food? He won’t get it however hard he thought about it, so he didn’t. 

“Sorry for dragging you away from your friends, kid,” Tendou chimed in from behind him, Ushijima not far behind him with a little container filled with steamed buns. “Huh?” Goshiki tried to process the meaning behind those words, only with his lacking brain when they’re face to face with greatness. And he’s faced with two greatness. Great. “Oh- oh! No, no, it’s okay, they’re not. . . friends-” Goshiki stopped himself before he could facepalm from how embarrassing he sounded. Well, great. Talk about how you’re being bullied, would you? As if you didn’t sound like you were fishing for pity from the seniors since you first met them.

Tendou squinted while handing Goshiki his ice cream.

“Huh,” he hummed, sparing a glance at Ushijima, who was looking at them with plain old non-emotional-Ushijima eyes. Tendou nodded for a second.

“I see what you’re trying to say,” the oldest between the trio hummed once again, and Goshiki was taken aback. He didn’t even notice Ushijima was trying to say something, all he saw was the older sitting there, unmoving, and then he  _ maybe  _ did glance up at Tendou a little bit, but also, that could be his eyes and their faultiness.

“Say, Goshiki,” Tendou licked his ice cream spoon, deep in thoughts, “what kind of person would you refer to as a friend?”

Huh.

Tendou never even thought of that question. He’s sure Ushijima was his friend, since he’s been there for him longer and more often than even his own mother, but he wouldn’t put that against her. Losing her husband must be hard, and Tendou would never demand her for more. He was seconds away from being a grown man, he needed to take care of himself either way. 

He spared Ushijima a glance, and the young man threw him a thumbs up.  _ He sure asks good questions,  _ Tendou remembered thinking.

“I don’t really know,” Goshiki responded, and Tendou looked back at the first-year whose head was down, wrinkles forming on his forehead as he thought about it long and hard. “I never really had one.”   
Ushijima was a little taken aback by the younger’s reply to the question, and he spared a glance at Tendou to try and figure out how his friend was going to respond. He didn’t meet an intelligent and intellectual face that was on their way to form a response, however. Instead, he was met with a blank slate. The same Tendou that looked like he’s just lost his father, the same one that heard people talking behind them about his and Ushijima’s friendship being fake and forced since both their fathers  _ worked  _ in important places and their kids needed to stick together, or something, and that Ushijima would’ve never be Tendou’s friend if not for that. He looked empty, but at the same time, he looked. . . relieved. As if he thought, ‘Ah, so I’ve never been the only one, huh?’

So he sighed.

It’s okay, he’s never been demanded to speak a lot, so speaking up for Tendou just this one time could be enough. Especially since Goshiki always looked enamoured every time either of them said anything to him at  _ any time.  _ Just this once, Ushijima thought. Count it as a little charity for Tendou and this little lost-looking kid. He can do it. The timing’s just right.

“I don’t really know what having a friend is like, either,” he voiced out, and he could literally almost feel the crack on Tendou’s neck-joints when he looked up at Ushijima, ready to fight. Goshiki looked at him too, and the attention all-at-once was almost a little too overwhelming for Ushijima, who had never been put in a place like that by his neglectful family who hated his father for what he does and had always been subjected to one listener at a time - mostly Tendou. But that time didn’t feel too hard on him, so he relaxed the tensions on his shoulder, for once. “This one is more like an emotional support pet,” he continued, petting Tendou’s hair, who surprisingly snickered. That was very out-of-character for Tendou, but Ushijima guessed that the older never really got back into who he was pretending to be after his father died. It’s okay, though. Since it worked.

Goshiki looked like he was lightning-struck for a while before he understood the underlying joke in Ushijima’s monotonic voice and he  _ snorted  _ before bowing his head a million times to ask for forgiveness. He was okay, of course.

And maybe Tendou could learn to be okay, too, Ushijima thought to himself.

But not like this.

They were at school that day, that one fateful day where almost everything goes to literal stinking shit. The alarms were blaring off, and since they’ve always trained for a natural disaster, almost everyone went straight to hiding underneath their desks, including the clueless teachers. Tendou had little to zero idea how even the teachers were clueless, but it wasn’t a time to blame anyone. 

He had felt that something was wrong the second he felt his delayed reaction after the alarms blared off. Ushijima, who was seated behind him, yanked his collars down so Tendou would also be hidden from the earthquake or tornado that was bound to happen, but curse Ushijima and his fast reflexes because it delayed Tendou’s line of sight from the window. According to Tendou’s delayed reflexes, by the time he would be hidden under the desk, the disaster would already be felt, correct? 

And Tendou was sleeping, so it delayed his and Ushijima’s ‘protect-Tendou’ reflexes by at least two to five seconds. Where was it? Where’s the shaking of the earthquake? Or the shattering of the windows and ceilings- where  _ was  _ it?

“Ma’am!” their class president called out from the very back of their class, her entire face printed on the window from how intently she was watching the outside. “Something exploded, ma’am!” she continued, banging on the window, and that was when it clicked.

Tendou banged the side of his head against his table when he stood up abruptly, and his table was left on the floor after it leaned away, shocking the rest of his classmate with a loud bang. Today, almost two-whole-years after his father’s death, after he assured himself that if he got over it, then the world would no longer remind him of what he assumed was a human’s mistake, a poorly made decision, an option that would never bring them peace - the revenge had taken place. 

It wasn’t an explosion as much as it was a bomb. 

Tendou felt himself got squished between the window and another classmate behind him as everyone in his class gathered around the window to see what was happening, followed by an ear-deafening explosion noise they’ve never heard in real life before. He was shaking, and he can feel Ushijima’s shoulder shake against his as they were both pressed against the windows, that was also shaking from the loud echoing explosion.

Hiroshima wasn’t that close, but it also was close enough for them to  _ see.  _ Right out their left window as the smoke covered in an inner layer of yellow-ish orange heat before it puffs in the air like a gigantic mushroom spread outwards, and the vibrations that followed left a half of them on the floor, scurrying out of the classroom accompanied by the alarm that were still noisily going off featured by the sound of their teacher’s panicked cries. 

Ushijima can’t think. He doesn’t want to. Especially not about Hiroshima. His father. They. . . it couldn’t.

The bomb wouldn’t destroy everything right? It would- never. 

Why was he thinking of things like this, anyway? He should be evacuating. Yes. That’s what he should do. Stop thinking of things that haven't happened and will never happen, focus on the current situation. And the situation was?

“Tendou-” he reached over to his rigid friend, still looking out the window with his eyes unfocused and pupils so small they were almost non-existent. Ushijima fought the urge to curse out loud when he pulled his friend over and he fell flat on the floor, little to no energy wasted on holding himself up when Tendou looked like he’s giving it his all to stop his brain from going overdrive and would cause in an even worse type of convulsions. “Tendou? Ten- hey? Can you hear me?” Ushijima crouched himself down, flinching a little bit when he saw the lights around them flicker sadly. The one hanging lights they had in their classroom was also swaying dangerously, and he pulled Tendou on his back, rushing out of the school as quickly as his feet allowed him to.

Tendou was making weird noises by now, his fingers twitching wildly and his voice caught up in something akin to a growl as high-pitched as a whine, and Ushijima strained his vocal chords when he reached their field to cry for help. “I-” he choked on his own rising panic when he realized how busy everyone was in treating their own wounds and injuries since half of their school building was actually torn down from the impact of the explosion. “Please, anyone?” he croaked out one more time, finding a place to lay Tendou down on his back, his eyes more wild than before as they completely ignored Ushijima’s calls. 

“Please,” he said, and a teacher ran past the two of them, almost tripping on Tendou’s lightly convulsing feet, “I think my friend is dying, ma’am, please-” 

His own sentence was cut off as he watched the teacher run towards another place, hurried in a way where it wouldn’t be beneficial for anyone but themselves. Ushijima wasn’t too keen on releasing Tendou’s head, which he had been cradling with his arms this whole time - just to call on for help, but at the same time, he’s never seen Tendou like this and he didn’t know what to do. At all.

“Tendou? B-breathe,” he tried once, looking down at his friend’s face, patting his forehead slightly in fear of agitating him even more. “P-please, please breathe, Tendou. I- I’m sorry I don’t know what to do, uh. . .” Ushijima looked up, his eyes almost blown as wide as his friends’. And that’s when he saw him.

“Goshiki!”

Tendou’s brain is always,  _ always  _ noisy. It’s almost nothing new to the young man since it feels to him like his brain cells are singularly always talking to each other in an impossible inhuman way, but he was called a monster, correct? Maybe this was one of his monster ways. He’d never know. 

But that one time, his brain was too much for him to handle. The bombing on Hiroshima triggered a thousand narratives of his emotions he never asked for, since that’s how he felt with every single one of his emotions. They’re narrated as if they’re a story no one’s ever asked for, and this one time, every single narration was playing in Tendou’s mind like a broken movie record that played all at once. It was too noisy, he was overwhelmed, and he felt like he passed out. If Ushijima didn’t reach for him, he would probably stand there frozen until another bomb fell on top of them. Because yes, that  _ will  _ happen. Just not now, though. Not yet.

Isn’t it funny?

Tendou has always been good at analyzing. Calculating what would happen in the future, yet he experienced this much shock that his shell stopped moving just because he saw a bombing, right in front of his eyes. Did he imagine that in one of those bombs, his father was in there? Piloting those things? Dying in front of him? Yes. But his logical side should’ve done something. Should’ve reminded him that he doesn’t even know if the Americans. . . it was the americans, right? Them. Tendou didn’t even know if the Americans used manned torpedoes, too. Possibly not. And in another logical sense, his father died two whole years ago. Two years. Why would Tendou be driven into such a brain-dead state that he forgot how to breathe and move properly just because of these certain things that are so mundane yet so. . . triggering?

Feelings. His emotions.

He felt like it was a wave of tsunami and he was standing all alone on the beach, waiting for it to come crashing down on him. Ah, yes, the cursed mentality of his. Ushijima would’ve scolded him for thinking he has to have his own back all of the time. What else could he do, though? He grew up thinking that way. And deep down, he knew Ushijima also felt the same. That guy just. . . has a little more strength on his outer shell. Just a little bit, though. Very little. 

It’s funny, too, how he can feel Ushijima’s arms wrapped around his head, trying to secure him from further falling into this pit of hell he doesn’t know he could ever fall into, but it feels dark. And lonely. And quiet. And he felt his convulsing arms and legs and the distant, muted panic that was spreading everywhere out there. Tendou felt like he’s cut off completely, and he squirmed around in fear, in anxiety, and anguish. But then he stopped.

Maybe. . . maybe it won’t be so bad? 

It’s quiet down here, wherever he’s at. And cold. And dark. Very dark. It’s nice. Oddly but comfortingly nice. Maybe it’s also the added Ushijima-warmth on his physical body, but Tendou didn’t even know where he was at. Until it wasn’t.

It wasn’t dark, and he felt like he’s being brought back up into the light. It somehow poured in from two gigantic holes that resembled his eye-shape. And it’s not cold anymore, somehow. It’s burning hot, and he can hear himself trying to breathe, in, out, in, and out, like he’s in some kind of therapy. And it’s no longer quiet as he can feel the vibrations of Ushijima’s arms around him. The kid is crying. Tendou could hold this against him and blackmail him for the rest of their lives. He could. Oh my god, this is fantastic. And it definitely wasn’t lonely.

Tendou blinked a few times as he came back into his own awareness, and he saw two spots of lights as if two suns were looking down at him before he blinked a few more times and Goshiki met his eyes first, then Ushijima. The younger looked miles and miles calmer than Ushijima, and that was new for Tendou. So new that it made him almost snort. 

What if he completely lost it back then?

“He’s okay,” Goshiki turned to look at Ushijima, and Tendou wanted to disagree. “He had a panic attack. It was far from being mild, and I think it was left untreated for a little too long that he started to lose grip on reality from the minimal oxygen intake, and. . .” Tendou zoned the younger’s explanations out. He knew.

Goshiki told them once, in their umpteenth picnics together, when he grew a whole lot more comfortable with the two. More than he let on. 

He took his scientific classes really seriously, in fact, he was that good at it that he could perform life-saving first aids if ever needed, like he just did. Ushijima probably remembered the fact that Goshiki told them this one day and called him over. Just because. It’s funny that Ushijima wanted him to live. Everything’s a little funny for him right now, starting from Goshiki’s fond little gaze and Ushijima’s right arm that was over his shoulders. This was new. Tendou has never been filled with this much warmth that he just had to.

He laughed. 

For a while, and then it got a little longer. There were tears in his eyes, too, from how much force he put into his laughter. By now, Goshiki’s expression was changed, and he’s laid down once again with Ushijima holding both his arms down. Apparently he was fighting against them. Tendou didn’t even know why he was fighting. He didn’t want to. He definitely didn’t.

“Is this. . .” Ushijima started, looking at Goshiki, “another panic attack?”

The youngest between the trio stilled, not knowing what to say as he looked straight into Tendou’s eyes. Tendou felt himself stilling, fear consumed his entire body before he was able to stop them - and he laughed.

What the actual fuck is going on with him? 

Tendou wanted to ask, wanted to stop himself from squirming against the two that were holding him down, but all that came out of his mouth was more ear-deafening cackles, and he cried. He cried, with tears, but he never stopped the disturbing laughs. It was never-ending, and he was tired of laughing. He was sad, this whole thing felt like someone took a knife and sliced his heart out willingly while he watched. But no matter what kind of emotion he felt, he showed it with a laugh.

Somehow, he turned the laughs into something a lot more aggressive, though, and Tendou can only watch himself as if he’s on autopilot mode as he thrashed against both Ushijima and Goshiki while he  _ shrieks  _ like a madman - and in these moments he genuinely thought, “I’ve fucking lost it.”

And maybe he did, Tendou told himself as he  _ sobs,  _ the noise of his crying melted into his uncontrollable laughter that teared through the field and their school grounds, and he never once stopped until he was taken from Goshiki and Ushijima, still wallowing in his bitter laughs as he was tied to an urgent care’s bed. And then he’s being carried into a hospital, his entire limbs tied with. . . something. Tendou didn’t really want to move, since the things he was tied with  _ hurt,  _ and if he hurted himself further by leaning up, he’d laugh even more maniacally. He’s pained by his own laughter. What the fuck are you doing, you useless piece of shit?

Tendou noticed that Ushijima and Goshiki were both there when he wasn’t tied onto a bed in a room. They were still there, too, when he’s secluded into a room unlike all the other patients, who looked at him like he was crazy. 

Tendou’s been called a monster all his life, and being crazy has always been one of the nicknames he caught along the way, too. He never used to mind though, since it wasn’t true. Well it is now, he thought to himself before he uncontrollably laughed again though he’s in desperate need to cry right about now. He  _ is  _ out of his mind.

Ushijima and Goshiki weren't there when he was asleep. He knew. 

The medicine didn’t sedate him the whole way, and he’s always had a very sharp hearing. Always. They talked about him, the doctors and nurses, some of them shed a few tears when Ushijima told everyone his entire life story. They further discussed about him when Ushijima was gone, though, most of the time, and there’s this one nurse who would sit next to him when he’s ‘asleep’ and talk to him about her life. And how much she wished he would have led a better life if the world didn’t put such an asshole move onto him. She would put a pitcher of water, Tendou assumed, by his bedside, and his medicines, and she would ruffle his hair after she’s done. It reminded Tendou of his mother, before she grew distant from him because her friends thought he looked nothing like her and more like his ugly father. 

He’d received more love from the people in here than he'd ever received his entire life. 

His mother never came.

The medicines he took calmed him down immensely, and he’s always pretended to be asleep everytime anyone checked on him so the dosage wouldn’t be multiplied. Tendou loved his half-asleep-half-awake but not laughing situation, and he’d also be allowed to listen to people talk about him. 

Goshiki came by one day. Tendou wished he could open his eyes just this once, but it would blow his entire cover. He’ll come back again some other time, right? And then Tendou would be able to. . . say his goodbyes. Yes. 

“I-” Goshiki said that day, both of his arms enveloped over Tendou’s cold ones. “I’m so sorry I didn’t act faster,” he continued. “Everyone said that it wasn’t my fault, but is it really?”

There were birds outside, and the sun was particularly shiny. 

Tendou felt Goshiki’s burning forehead as he leaned over to rest his head on Tendou’s side, and the bed started shaking as the younger cried. He cried, and Tendou felt slightly relieved. He wanted to cry, so much, this whole time - and he’s forgotten how to. It felt safe and warm to once again remember how it’s like to cry, and Goshiki’s sobs and whimpers drew him a memory behind his closed eyelids.

Tendou knew how to cry once. When his father died in that torpedo, when he was an elementary student who got kicked out his learning team because he looked scary, when Ushijima planned to tease him about moving away but it didn’t work because he used to look so serious all the time to Tendou and he didn’t know if Ushijima was joking or not - he was, by the way, and he hugged Tendou for the first time to prove he wasn’t going anywhere. And yet, his inability to do anything but laugh had taken the time to cry away from him. 

But Goshiki cried. For him. Because of him. 

His thumb twitched in response. 

_ Sorry, kid,  _ he would’ve said, if he could talk while sober without laughing at every single word,  _ come back next time, okay? When I’m a little more sane. I promise I’ll get better. A lot better. And we could be friends again, maybe? _

Goshiki noticed the twitching though, and looked up at Tendou, eyes hopeful. Tendou could feel it, and his heart clenched around nothing painfully. It was painful for a second, and then it was gone. The medicine’s so goddamn strong, huh?

“Ah, yeah- I have to tell you something,” Goshiki chuckled, wiping his tears away. “I’ll be volunteering to help the victims. There was a lot, you see? A lot that were broken. And they said it was very needed, you know? To help so. . . so the soldiers can focus on. . . you know. I mean, they should’ve had nurses and doctors ready for these kinds of things, too, but, you never know I guess.”

Tendou can feel the kid beaming up at him, and he remembered in his fogged up brain that the kid loves being praised.  _ Good job, Goshiki,  _ he would’ve said,  _ that  _ is  _ a noble duty, you know? _

His thumb twitched again, and this time Goshiki surged forward, hands hovering over Tendou’s forehead before they settled there, and Tendou can feel something dropping on his cheeks. The kid is crying, he thought to himself. 

“I- I genuinely thought you were awake for a second, I,” Goshiki shrugged, though his voice wavered. “S-sorry, Tendou.”

_ It’s really okay. _

And he left after a few random rambles. 

So he’s volunteering to help, huh? Tendou thought to himself as he tried to blink away the medicine in his system to at least take a glimpse of Goshiki’s retreating back once he’s sure the younger wouldn’t turn back to look at him. Well, maybe he should wait a little longer to bid the kid goodbye, then.

Tendou was moved in a hurry to another hospital when he felt it again. The shake was much more dire than the last one, and his favourite nurse was the one who rushed upstairs to pull him away as they ran somewhere else. To another hospital, though this one was half-broken and dark, serving as a hospital only for a little while longer. Tendou had to share rooms with a lot of other people, but apparently he was. . . oddly fine. He didn’t make any effort to speak, but he could experience a lot of things without maniacally laughing. He could even write to communicate without speaking.

A lot of things worried Tendou when he was moved, especially because Ushijima hasn’t visited in a while, and the last time Goshiki visited him was two whole days ago. Two days.

Tendou swallowed his questions when the nurses asked him if he needed anything. He didn’t, he wrote, and was even let to wander around the place, helping here and there if ever needed. As long as he didn’t say anything, he thought he would be fine. 

Ushijima came a week later, surprised and worried that Tendou was walking around with bandages and first-aid kits. Something flashed in Ushijima’s eyes and Tendou  _ knew.  _ He knew it was coming, and yet.

Ushijima sat beside him on his crooked hospital bed as Tendou’s pencil scratched the paper below him. He wrote, concentrated. 

_ How did it happen? _

He showed Ushijima his paper, and his friend fought all he could to avoid looking into Tendou’s eyes until the older between the two forced his friend to look at him in the eyes by moving his chin with his bandaged fingers. Tendou’s glassy-eyes met Ushijima’s, and even then, he still diverged from the point. 

“What are you talking about?”

“G-” Tendou stuttered, feeling relief flush all over his body when he was teetering on the edge of tears instead of laughter. “Goshiki-” he managed to say, tears welling up on the corners of his eyes. 

It was quiet around them, since it was halfway to midnight. Tendou focused on the bandages around Ushijima’s hands, all the way to his neck as he huffs out, surrendered himself from trying to cry without sound to sob. His friends were. . . hurting. He’s hurting. They’re all hurting. 

“There was a second bomb. A little closer to us, that’s why we felt it and the hospital you were in was too far broken to be safe. Our neighborhood was shattered. The government didn’t surrender. Their enemies pointed it coincidentally to where people and soldiers were going to as a place to take shelter. No one’s fault except for the fact that the world is at war.”

Tendou was still crying into his hands, his fists balled as they pushed at his eyeballs as if that could stop the tears.

“He was there.”

Tendou didn’t need to be told. He knew. He can feel it. He felt it happening, even. Somehow, he would’ve said he saw it coming.

He gripped at his own hands, kneeling beside the bed as his nails dug into his palm. Goshiki held his hand last week, and it was warm. It was alive, and warm, and real.

And he didn’t say goodbye.

He failed to say goodbye.

The nails made his palm bleed, and all of a sudden it was warm again, and Tendou looked up at Ushijima, away from his hands around his own to his emotionally broken face, where his eyes were covered entirely by his own tears and swollen by how much he himself had cried. 

“I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t-” Tendou sobbed, and Ushijima did nothing to stop him. “There’s no goodbye that needs to be said, Tendou,” he said, hugging the older as if he’s trying to get his message across. He did. He absolutely did.

They knew. They’ve always known.

If Tendou hugged Ushijima a little longer and sobbed a little harder when his family drove by to pick him up, it’s for no one but them to know. If Tendou felt nothing but the jitters of anxiety and the dawning loneliness that were towering over him as he leaned on the hospital’s broken rooftop, it’s for no one but them to know. If Ushijima arrived in his new shelter with his family, the warmth of Tendou’s last few hugs around his broken shoulder and his hands curled around the medication he’s not supposed to consume all at once, that’s only for him to know.

They’ve been broken a few times. A long time ago, a lot. Nothing good ever came out of a war, since everything that’s good left with their life on the line. Nothing good would ever happen for them in a world where they’re misunderstood most of the time, and were forced to deal with it on their own. 

He took his time before he took the leap.

He took his time before he swallowed, in the darkness of his new attic. 

Goodbyes weren’t necessary.

What was necessary was to stop the pain. Find a way out. 

Goshiki wouldn’t have wanted this to happen to them, but then again, how’s he going to kick them out of hell if he’s the only one that gets to go to heaven for his noble deeds?

**Author's Note:**

> check out marsenthusiast's take on this angsty-babysitting goshiki fic! is cute


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